Golden Sun, Silver Moon
by Kasmi Kassim
Summary: To all, the prince of Mirkwood was Beloved.  But to the lone Warden of Lorien, he was a nightmare incarnate.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine, save the plot.

**Rating**: PG 13 for scenes of battle violence and adolescent angst.

**Summary**: To all, the prince of Mirkwood was Beloved. But to the lone Warden of Lorien, he was a nightmare incarnate.

**Author's****Note**: Finally, a story of Legolas and Haldir – a standalone, yes, but a backdrop to my ongoing _Road to Redemption_ series. I am attempting a change in style (again), so bear with me – and thank you in advance for reviews. Wink.

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_By Kasmi Kassim_

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_**Golden Sun, Silver Moon**_

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_**Prologue: The Coming of the Sun**_

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"I found out why the guard rota is on hold this month," Rumil announced. "The prince is coming for a visit."

Haldir coughed up his food, causing Orophin to jerk away. Haldir recovered with only shreds of his dignity. "Who?"

"Well, there is only one prince officially left on Arda." Rumil smiled. "This is delicious, Haldir. One thing I hate about patrol is that you never have time to cook. Orophin's cooking is so bland."

Orophin threw a dirty look. "You don't even cook."

Rumil's smile widened. "You and Haldir decided it was better that way."

Orophin's grumbles were lost on Haldir, who rose to his feet. Having guests was one thing, but shifting the patrol rota was another. He would need to see the Lord and Lady about this.

Although a part of him whispered that he already knew. He pushed that thought down.

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His premonitions reared its ugly head when he ran into a messenger sent to summon him. The dread took form as despair when he saw the Lord and Lady waiting for him with a smile. He murmured his greetings distractedly.

"Thranduil sends his regards." Celeborn was not one to waste words. "He could not come himself, but Legolas wished to return. He had fond memories of our woods from his last visit, it seems."

Haldir remembered that visit. It was a brief show, set up to secure the recent ties between the two realms. Haldir had been away from Lorien at that time, and it was no accident.

But he had heard enough. Apprehension between the two realms had dissolved in the face of a round-eyed elfling, he was told. Old feuds were forgotten, new friendships forged; nursemaids whispered about a possible future match between a woodland prince and a dark-eyed evenstar. The little prince had the gentleness of his mother, the mischievous vivacity of his father – he should have been there to see –

Haldir prayed he would never have to see.

But the Valar were intent on ignoring his prayers. Thranduil's message requested that Haldir himself keep an eye on his son this time. Haldir nodded mutely as the Lord and Lady announced the prince to be his charge.

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"In other words, babysitting." Sometimes, Rumil was endearingly tactless.

Haldir returned to staring into the pond. Child prodigy he may be, but beyond sulking he was not.

"Orophin and I will also be around, at least until our next patrol," offered Rumil, crouching next to Haldir. An impassive face stared back through the reflective waters. Rumil sighed. "You could ask to be relieved, you know. The Lord and Lady would understand."

Haldir smiled a little. So sympathetic. Sweet Rumil.

Shaking his head, he straightened. He owed it to Thranduil, and her. As if reading his thoughts, Rumil also climbed to his feet. "I miss her," he murmured.

Haldir missed her too. But Rumil did not need to hear that. "They should be here soon," he said instead. He disappeared into the trees above.

Rumil watched after his brother. In truth, he was just as lost as Haldir. His memories were sketchy at best, and with Haldir in such a mood, he was left with no guidance. And before they could straighten out uncertain hopes and lingering aches, they were to face the very presence that threatened to shake the ground beneath their feet. He hoped Haldir would be temperate to the prince during the month of his stay – after all, he was famously cool and collected in the direst of moments.

But Rumil felt that his wishes would be in vain. He knew Haldir.

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The entourage was led by a crown of yellow hair. Sunlight flitted through green leaves, casting wondrous shadows upon the sparkling smile of the young adolescent who rode at the lead. The sun shifted, casting shards of light into Haldir's eyes.

Dear Valar.

Orophin stared openly, and Rumil stood very still. Haldir held his breath.

The entourage slowed to a halt. Haldir bowed. "Well met, my lords. Welcome to Lothlorien."

The young elf bowed in return. "You have my gratitude," he said. Bright eyes looked up to see three brothers leading the escort. They danced with delight, refracting the dazzling rays of the sun. Haldir felt faint. He averted his gaze with a dry swallow.

"I am Haldir, Warden of Lorien." Haldir gestured to his brothers. "These are my brothers, Rumil and Orophin." Both of the younger elves bowed, Orophin managing to continue his staring.

If possible, the happy smile on the youth's face brightened further. "My lord Haldir," he said. "I am Legolas Thranduilion. A star shines upon the hour of our meeting."

Time ceased to whirr against his brain; Haldir's heart scorched. With no answer, he simply bowed in silence.

A star indeed did shine upon their hour of meeting. But whether it was the gentle vigil of the heavens or an ill-fated star, he could not tell.

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_**To Be Continued**_


	2. Haunted

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine, save the plot.

**Rating**: PG 13 for scenes of battle violence and adolescent angst.

**Summary**: To all, the prince of Mirkwood was Beloved. But to the lone Warden of Lorien, he was a nightmare incarnate.

**Author'sNote**: Finally, a story of Legolas and Haldir – a standalone, yes, but a backdrop to my ongoing _RoadtoRedemption_ series. I am attempting a change in style (again), so bear with me – and thank you in advance for reviews. Wink.

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_By Kasmi Kassim_

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_**Golden Sun, Silver Moon**_

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_**Chapter 1: Haunted**_

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Adolescents. Haldir had had his fill of them.

Rumil had been all help and maturity, of course, but Orophin had been spoiled by his brothers. In comparison, the prince was nothing but charming. Perhaps it was his sweet nature – or perhaps it was his upbringing, no doubt strict if one knew Thranduil. Perhaps it was only due to him barely having entered adolescence.

Whatever it was, denying him was next to impossible, and it drove Haldir mad.

"Join the guards?" he echoed, staring at the bundle of enthusiasm standing in his talan.

Legolas nodded happily. "I would hate to draw you away from duty to entertain me," he said, "and my father has recommended it too. He also suggested, along with the Lord and Lady, that I stay for at least a year."

A year. Such a terribly long time.

"I heard that a Warden could recommend a soldier to the Marchwarden without the preliminary years of training." Legolas bristled with excitement. "Will you test me?"

Something in Haldir wanted to stomp that sunny light out of the younger elf's face. He pushed the ugly thought down.

"I may fail you, Prince," he said sternly, "only to keep you safe within the borders."

Legolas scrunched up his face – a trait Haldir had seen when he was a babe. "I wish you would just call me Legolas, Haldir."

Haldir refused to be swayed by cuteness. "I may still fail you."

The prince's smile broadened. "I do not believe it, Haldir. I have heard stories about you."

When the Warden's face twitched, Legolas laughingly disappeared down the talan. "Come, Haldir, test me!"

Alone in his talan, Haldir stood pensively still. Loyalty could be such an orcbait sometimes. If only this hadn't been Thranduil's child – her child – but then, there would be no such problem, would there?

With a sigh, he drew his sword. "Get ready," he called, stepping out of the talan. "I go easy on no one."

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The prince joined the patrol in his second week in Lorien. The Lord and Lady were appalled, judging by their perfectly serene faces when Haldir reported this, but they were willing to listen to the halting explanations. Thranduil would never send an incompetent child to be a burden to border patrol; Oropherion he certainly was, throwing his elfling into survival camps in a foreign land, but inconsiderate he was not. This line of reasoning did much to soothe the Lord and Lady, though it did little to soothe Haldir himself.

But he kept his unease carefully masked as he introduced the newest member to his surprised squadron. Needless to say, he was met with collective silence. The only son to the most hot-tempered monarch on Arda! A guard approached Haldir that night to question the wisdom of his decision.

"Our peace with Mirkwood is still young," he said carefully. "Perhaps we should assign soldiers to discreetly guard the prince at all times."

Haldir glanced at the campfire, where Legolas sat fletching his arrows. Small hands moved with practiced ease as he chatted; noticing Haldir's scrutiny, he raised his gaze and broke into a broad smile. "Rumil was telling me what a wonderful cook you are," he called.

"And also how I burned down our floor twice, I suppose?" Haldir said wryly.

Legolas laughed. Rumil poked his out from behind a shrub near Legolas' elbow. "I invited Legolas to dine in our family talan so he can see the evidence." He disappeared behind the bushes again, apparently too lazy to hold up his head.

Haldir cocked an eyebrow. "You invited him to our humble talan? Are you hosting?"

"Oh, come now, Haldir," Rumil's voice sang. "You don't want our guest to die of Appallingly Tasteless Food Poisoning, do you?"

Haldir glared at the bush. Legolas grinned. "I almost burned down the kitchen a few times too," he said. "Mostly in Rivendell."

"I can only imagine," was Rumil's sigh. "Poor Elladan and Elrohir."

"They were with me."

"Oh. Poor Lord Elrond."

Haldir turned away from the campfire. After staring hard at the darkened forest, he shook his head at last. "No," he said. "I will not insult our fellow guard thus."

And thus he treated him – as a fellow guard. Legolas seemed to expect nothing less.

The prince settled into patrol easily. He knew how to use his size to his advantage; his intelligence in battle won quick approval of his older peers. It was said that he was a healer-in-training under Elrond's wing in Rivendell, also hoping to expand martial training in Lothlorien; while respected for his ambitions, he was also liked for his easy laugh, his sparkling innocence. A magnet for adoration, he was obviously accustomed to being loved without question.

And who would not love him? That tinkling laugh, those smiling eyes, the quickness to apologize and forgive. The prince's likeable traits added more than a tinge of self-loathing in Haldir's mind.

But he was a captain and a respected one, and was determined to, if unable to beat his misgivings into submission, at least hide them well. He had Thranduil to thank for Legolas' presence in the guard – all that show of interaction, and not a private moment together.

Of course, the Valar would not so easily answer his prayers. But then again, they never did.

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Haldir counted off his troops in the bushes. Only one had fallen behind; he was in plain sight, limping across the meadow on injured legs as arrows whizzed by.

With a signal, Haldir realigned his troops to stand behind him. Strapping his bow into his back, a knife carefully slid between his teeth, he inched forward. Amid the hum of his heart, the perilous rescue became starkly written out before his eyes in blood-splattered black and white. He prepared to spring.

Amid the eerie silence, something flashed before him, and was running ahead to the injured elf.

Valar...

"Legolas, no!"

His scream shattered the silence, and time uncoiled in frenzied speed. Legolas grabbed the injured guard, and as an arrow flew to the two, Haldir's arrow flew to meet it. Haldir broke into a sprint, to Mordor with stealth, and his troops broke from their formation to cover their captain. Orcs surged forward, and elves moved to meet them; the fight broke into an all-out melee.

Legolas dragged the heavier elf with one arm, turning to block the oncoming arrows with a white knife. Haldir tackled him in time to save him from a spear, and drew back to thrust Legolas and the injured elf into the flanks. Legolas bent over the injured elf and gasped as Haldir grabbed his arm and spun him around.

The young elf looked up breathlessly, eyes alight with the battle rush. A seemingly eternal moment, blazing eyes and ragged breaths – and then Haldir jerkily released him and turned away, commanding his troops into a formation.

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It was Rumil who dared to block his march to the tent.

"He only wanted to protect you, Haldir."

Haldir stared at Rumil, dark against the setting sun. He moved to pass, and Rumil blocked him again. "He thinks the world of you."

"Move, Rumil."

"He is but a child." Rumil was unflinching. "He fawns upon you."

Haldir crossed his arms. Rumil moved aside. "Don't say anything you'll regret." His voice was as dark as his warning eyes. Haldir strode inside.

Legolas quickly stood, alone in the lamplight. His hair glimmered deep gold, his eyelashes casting dark shadows against his cheeks. Haldir's heart trembled; he was haunted, and alone with the ghost that breathed the same air as he.

He had no idea where to begin. Or even what to begin.

Legolas took the initiative. "I'm sorry, Haldir." And he looked it.

Tongue-tied, it took a beat for Haldir to start the lecture. "You are well trained," he said with difficulty, "but teamwork is something else entirely. A squadron has many minds, Legolas, and we must operate on common understanding. You placed the entire guard at risk when you bypassed my order." An unplaced heat was beginning to bubble up in his chest, and he did not know why. "You were lucky this time, but what if something had happened in that confusion, in the crucial moment of battle?"

"Yes, I realize that." The youth stared at his feet. "I'm sorry." Lashes drooped, and shoulders slumped. Something burned near Haldir's heart, and it was difficult to breathe.

"This is not something that can be covered by the luck of success. I cannot – we cannot move in perfect trust when we have a link in the chain that moves on its own."

Legolas' head snapped up. "You want me to leave the guard," he said flatly.

Haldir did not answer.

Legolas moved closer. "I'm sorry, Haldir." His voice was desperate. "It will not happen again. I didn't realize – it would displease you so."

Haldir's vision swam. "Do you think I do this out of displeasure, Legolas?"

When Legolas failed to answer, Haldir wanted to throttle someone. "Do you – Legolas." He took a deep breath. "All right," he said, brusquely, "explain."

Legolas fidgeted. "I am the fastest sprinter in the guard, and I've faced orc arrows before. I was confident."

"Confident?" Haldir could not believe his ears. Something was exploding inside, and he could hardly see straight. "Confident that you could go on deflecting all those arrows while you ran?"

"No," said Legolas, daring a glance, "but you could."

Silence.

Legolas peered up once again. "I won't do it again, Haldir. I promise."

Haldir tried once again to gather his shattered wits. Why – why was this so hard? "If you were so sure that I would cover you," he said, straining to steady his voice, "what were you apologizing for?"

Legolas looked doleful. "I – I didn't realize I would scare you so. You looked..." he trailed off, staring at his feet. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

And there it was again, that spinning dizziness. Had his terror really shown so vividly? Had this little elf been able to read him with such ease? Or was it something he was accustomed to? But of course. After all...

Agitated by his silence, Legolas moved closer. "Please, Haldir," he said, eyes wide and pleading, "don't send me away."

Haldir stared, distant and numb. The royal prince of the largest elven realm existent was trembling before his disapproval – and the sweet prince thought Haldir was only worried for him. He could take only so much on his blackened conscience. He shut his eyes, praying that the golden visage standing before him would go away.

"Don't," he breathed, "don't ever do that again."

Legolas broke into a smile. Stepping closer, he quickly embraced Haldir, and left the tent.

Haldir stood, the warmth of the embrace tingling along his skin. The visage did not go away; the glimmering gold in the lamplight, the gentle blue under dark lashes, the soft whisper – and the look of delight. It was all there, and all wrong. He deserved to be more than a substitute in Haldir's ghosts. But as long as he continued to look like her, Haldir had no hope of rectifying this situation.

Twilight was darkening to night when Haldir at last exited the tent, determined more than ever to remove the young prince from his sight.

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_**To Be Continued**_

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	3. Sensual Ice

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine, save the plot.

**Rating**: PG 13 for scenes of battle violence and adolescent angst.

**Summary**: To all, the prince of Mirkwood was Beloved. But to the lone Warden of Lorien, he was a nightmare incarnate.

**Author's Note**: Finally, a story of Legolas and Haldir – a standalone, yes, but a backdrop to my ongoing _Road to Redemption_ series. Thank you in advance for reviews. Wink.

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_By Kasmi Kassim_

,

,

_**Golden Sun, Silver Moon**_

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_**Chapter 2: Sensual Ice**_

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The squadron was on its way back to the city on account of its injured member when it was met with a messenger.

"Patrol at the inner circle of the forest," read Orophin, peering over Haldir's shoulder. "Why the frown, brother? It's safer, isn't it?"

The inner circle, between the city itself and the outer borders, was never Haldir's duty. It was more resources, less danger, and all shades of gray. A position of permanent restlessness, a relaxed vigilance. Such patrols were usually assigned to the older elves, more knowledgeable in dealings with civilian disputes and the higher circles while keeping in touch with the more militant patrols of the borders.

Haldir glanced toward the fire. Legolas was chatting with the injured elf while tending to his wounds. His hands were gentle; his quick mind, though useful in battle, would also serve well in the healing ward. He deserved more than the bloodbath of war, a battle which a healer was always destined to lose. But a prince of the woodland realm would never be given a chance to walk the path of a healer.

He sighed as he rolled up the scroll. This new assignment was suspiciously well-timed in alignment with the addition of a certain prince to his guard, but he could not dispute the Lord and Lady through a messenger. He would go see them himself when they arrived at the city.

He turned to see that Rumil had joined them as well. "New assignment?"

Haldir nodded. Rumil's gaze wandered toward the prince. "It has nothing to do with Legolas," Haldir said curtly.

"No one said anything," said Orophin. "Quick to defend, are we, brother?"

Haldir looked down at Orophin with the full weight of his gaze. Orophin held up his hands. "I just wondered," he shrugged, "you avoid him like poison but you defend him so. Are you just trying to be fair, as they say?" he glanced at Legolas. "I know you're fair and all, but you know... we get mixed messages."

Rumil cuffed the back of Orophin's head. "Don't be a menace, Orophin," he chastised, and cast a comforting glance Haldir's way. "Don't listen to him, Haldir. You are fair to us all."

"The fairest of the Galadhrim," Orophin sang, gliding away toward the trees. "I keep telling you, you have no idea why the maidens call you that."

Haldir fought the urge to throw the scroll at his brother's retreating head.

With a chuckle, Rumil took Haldir's arm and led him to join the guards. Haldir turned to the fire to see Legolas watching; but it was too late to turn back. Legolas rose and came to meet them.

"Is something amiss?" Legolas looked from Haldir to Rumil. "Orophin just passed by, muttering something about princes corrupting the fairest." He peered apprehensively. "What did I do?"

Haldir fought the urge to run after his orc of a brother. "You did nothing at all." Thank the Valar he could be honest on this one.

Rumil chuckled. "Don't mind Orophin's perpetual mutiny, Legolas. He amuses himself by poking at Haldir's upright ways."

Warm eyes moved to Haldir, and Haldir shifted, uncomfortable. "I like our captain's upright ways," Legolas said plainly.

Haldir almost flinched. Harboring malice toward the young one was disgraceful enough, but to stand there while he beamed at him with nothing but the purest admiration – it was too much. His desperate eyes caught a guard walking by.

"Salmas! I need to talk to him." He pried Rumil's fingers loose. "You two return to the fire."

Rumil tugged Legolas away with a whisper, and Legolas glanced back. "Come, Haldir, join us!" he cried happily. "Rumil says we're going to share stories of the undead tonight."

Undead indeed. He could only smile at the irony.

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The orcs were distant, circling wide of the forest. _They never give up_, Haldir thought wearily. _They will never give up until one of us is wiped from the face of Middle Earth. _

He turned to face his guards. "There are two tracks," he announced, "and two scouts will track the southern path and diverge. I will take the eastern route. Who else will-"

"I will." Legolas was already rising. "I will take the western route."

Haldir's heart stilled; he felt Orophin's intense gaze, and Rumil's knowing eyes, as he scanned the guard. "On second thought," he said stiffly, "it would be better for someone with nimbler feet to be the scout."

Rumil stepped forward. "I am lighter than you, captain. I will be the other scout."

The scouts were dismissed immediately. Haldir turned to instruct his troops, attempting to outrun the guilt he knew was coming.

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Legolas and Rumil dropped down to the clearing, greeting each other with reports of what they saw. Haldir's unit was further down the trail. They began to walk side by side.

Rumil glanced sideways; Legolas was unusually quiet.

"So," Rumil said brightly, "tell me about Mirkwood. We tell you stories about Lothlorien, but we know nothing of your home."

The prince turned his gaze toward Rumil. Rumil held his breath; those distant eyes held none of their usual mirth. "Nothing?" he echoed. "Did Haldir never share his tales with you?"

Rumil's blood chilled. Legolas stopped and turned fully. "Rumil, your brother is avoiding me. Tell me why."

Rumil's heart dropped, and he slowed to a stop. For the first time, he took a long, unabashed look at Legolas. He was neither his father nor mother, but an overlapping mirage of both. Rumil was young, but he remembered – a smiling elleth who pulled orphans into her bosom as she hid in the caves, and a bright-eyed prince who held up his head when he came marching, fatherless and kingless – how could Haldir stand his ground against both the living and the dead? Rumil was a warrior, and he knew when he was outmatched. He closed his eyes.

When Rumil slowly resumed his gait, Legolas walked alongside him, patient.

"Haldir was never a warrior, Legolas."

Legolas blinked. Rumil's gaze was distant. "He is a musician and artist. His songs, his carvings and etchings – he put those away after the war." He stared at the falling leaves, his voice heavier with each word. "He vowed to never lose another."

And oh, how he lived for that vow.

Rumil was too young to remember much – the fog of memory was only penetrated by screams. The look on Haldir's face was what punctuated the start of the memories, when he stumbled into the talan to gather up his brothers and flee their home. He said Nana and Ada would catch up with them soon. Soon.

Those were days of perpetual gray. Long treks through a broken forest, picking through mangled bodies, clutching the hand of an older brother who drove them surely and relentlessly. The fevered nights huddled in caves in which Orophin cried and screamed, little babe, and Haldir rocked him back and forth, back and forth, whispering fiercely to a whimpering Rumil that it was all right. It would be all right. Nana and Ada would catch up with them soon. Perhaps tomorrow – they would meet up with them tomorrow.

Rumil came to learn that little Haldir had known all along that the promised tomorrow would never come. That little Haldir, hardly tall enough to ride a horse, had been just as uncertain and lost, had wanted to stop in his tracks in the wasteland and wail with his brothers. Yes, those memories were gray – but they cleared in the end to reveal the starlight of the Lady's pavilion, the sanctuary to which Haldir had guided them. There were other refugees there, and Sister. Sister took care of them – she sang them to sleep, she held them close when enemies encroached, and told them stories of Greenwood. Of warriors bejeweled in emeralds and rubies, of valiant kings and noble princes, keeping their fears at bay in the darkest nights.

But then Sister was gone – gone, and the clash of battle died down, Haldir fell quiet, and began to practice the sword – and as the Golden Woods slowly came back to life, Haldir glistening with sweat as he talked breathlessly of joining the guard, he would grow to become the youngest to be named a Warden of a squadron, and would mount a horse bound for Greenwood to visit Sister and her new family. He had laughed then, tall and lean and radiant in his new Warden garb, his voice alternating between a soft tenor and jagged bass. And then, far away, news came that Sister died.

Haldir stayed home. He did not attend the rites, did not ever go back to Greenwood. Thranduil sent letters, gifts. Haldir put them in a chest like treasures untouched.

Rumil came to watch in silent grief as Haldir grew taller, stronger, smiled little, and wept not at all after that day. Had come to recognize that air of finality with which Haldir shut and locked his chest of flutes and carving knives, and raised a great white sword.

"The war lives in him, Legolas," he said, as if to himself. "He lives to protect."

Protect whom from what, he no longer knew.

The kaleidoscope of light shifted around him, and yet Rumil felt cold. The golden lights died down into muted gray, Haldir's voice settled into a deep, rich melody, and Orophin learned to watch from afar as Haldir crouched by a lake and stared into the waters. And soon, silence breathed in the whispering woods, haunted with distant cries of the past.

"Rumil?"

Rumil blinked. Heaving a deep breath, he once again stood grown and strong amid a peaceful drizzle of falling leaves, the shifting of sunlight between the trees. Legolas was watching, wide-eyed, and Rumil wanted to pull that small head against his breast.

"I heard much about him," Legolas almost whispered. "The youngest Warden of Lorien gives love to none, and loyalty to all."

Rumil smiled to himself. "Ah, the loveless captain of the fourth southeastern unit." Sensual ice, they called him. Not that Haldir gave an orc's arse what he was called. "You must understand, Legolas," he said, suddenly wanting to pray. "My brother is distant, but not because he does not love." Wanting to pray, to whatever spirit was out there – Sister, the Valar, Nana, Ada. Dear, stupid Haldir. "He loves too much, Legolas. He has always loved too much."

Legolas frowned, staring hard into the mesh of sunlight. Rumil watched the young pre-adolescent boy, wanting to hold him and cry, pray for something he could not grasp.

At last, Legolas nodded. "I think I understand." His voice hushed into a whisper. "I think I understand."

Rumil smiled a little. They walked on in silence.

"He does not hate me, then?" Legolas suddenly said.

Rumil wanted to laugh. Instead he smiled fondly. "Oh, little prince." He clasped the younger elf's shoulder. "Why would Haldir – oh, Haldir."

Legolas looked up to see Haldir standing in the path before them, tall and solitary in the drizzling leaves. "Any news?" His eyes flickered like ice.

Legolas was the first to recover. "The orcs are scattered to the west," he said, "and have no formation at all. They seem unaware of our presence, or at least unwilling to move in."

Haldir's gaze shifted to Rumil, who shook his head. "No sighting of orcs from my direction."

"Interesting." Haldir turned to Legolas. "Tell me more about the pattern of the orcs." Rumil took the moment to excuse himself.

"They are in no pattern at all." Legolas looked up at the tall elf.

"But they are together."

"Orcs move together. They are not aware of us."

Haldir looked grave. "Do not be so quick to judge, Legolas. A single orc can be our downfall."

Legolas moved forward. Haldir stiffened; he had never stood closer than necessary, and only in battle. Legolas came to stand before him, and dropped his gaze. Haldir stood as still as stone.

The younger elf's eyes were thoughtfully downcast as he reached out to finger the guardian's gray garb. "What is it that you fear?" he whispered.

As if broken from a trance, Haldir jerked away. "We should return to camp."

"The war is over." Haldir paused. The voice was soft. "The war is over, Haldir."

Haldir's face darkened as he turned to the prince. "We merely keep it in bay." He pinned the young elf with the full force of his gaze. "You, prince of Mirkwood, should know this."

"It is not that war that rages in you, Haldir of Lorien."

Silence sizzled in the rain of golden leaves.

Legolas' bright eyes trembled with uncertainty as he looked up at the older elf.

"I am not," he said, lilting voice soft with sorrow, "I am not my mother, Haldir."

And he was gone, leaving the guardian standing alone in the dance of falling leaves.

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_**To Be Continued**_


	4. Falling Apart

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine, save the plot.

**Rating**: PG 13 for scenes of battle violence and adolescent angst.

**Summary**: To all, the prince of Mirkwood was Beloved. But to the lone Warden of Lorien, he was a nightmare incarnate.

**Author's Note**: Finally, a story of Legolas and Haldir – a standalone, yes, but a backdrop to my ongoing _Road to Redemption_ series. Thank you in advance for reviews. Wink.

,

_By Kasmi Kassim_

,

,

_**Golden Sun, Silver Moon**_

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_**Chapter 3: Falling Apart**_

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The Lord and Lady were silent. Always so silent, all-knowing. Haldir took a deep breath. "You understand," he said, carefully, "there is no other way."

The Lord and Lady glanced at each other. The Lady turned to Haldir. "Haldir, child," she said, "we fear we do not understand."

Haldir wanted to curse under his breath. Before he could commit blasphemous acts before his lord and lady, Celeborn came to the rescue.

"Tell us again," he said, "why exactly you wish to remove a guard from your squadron."

"With all due respect, my lord, that decision is mine to make."

"Of course it is, Haldir." The Lady smiled. "So why is it that you come to us with an explanation?"

Haldir felt like cursing again.

"Now, child," said the Lady, more sympathetically, "tell us what is bothering you."

Around him, the pavilion glowed with perpetual light. The Lord and Lady's smiles were gentle, like the glimmer of the stars. Haldir was accustomed to such light – the ceaseless comfort in the darkness, unnoticed and yet eternal in their silent vigil. He was not accustomed to brilliant flares that flickered to shadow. Blinding sunlight, bright laughter, sincere sorrow – no, that was foreign territory. He wanted to cry.

"Haldir."

The Lady's fingers brushed against his hair. He realized he was hanging his head, miserable and small, just as he had been when he first came to the Lord and Lady with little Rumil and Orophin sleeping in his arms. She had smiled that gentle smile, full of sorrow, when little Haldir held his head high and demanded sanctuary; and when she had reached out to brush his hair, he had at last hung his head, sad and weary. And in the secrecy of his brothers' slumber, finally wept in her arms.

"Dear child," murmured the Lady, "what is it that you fear?"

Legolas had asked him the same. Did he fear? Haldir had no fears. There was always the possibility of war and death and loss, of course, but that was the reason he trained himself to protect his brothers, and trained his brothers to protect each other. Lorien was safe, he was strong, his brothers were now grown to be capable warriors; he was well-armed against his fears. He would march to war, go down in their stead, but by Valar he would not lose another. Never again.

He looked upon the Lady, and in her silence he once again saw the sparkling eyes, heard the merry laughter of a fair-haired elleth who once walked these woods. Haldir closed his eyes. She was dead. Long dead.

And in her stead treaded a lightfooted boy, singing and laughing as he walked the earth, touched by the golden sun with a bow in one hand and an herb in another, eyes twinkling with the dance of the stars and laughter that rang like the echoes of the wind.

"My Lady," he whispered, raising his eyes with a thick silver sheen – "I fear everything."

The Lady wordlessly pulled his head into an embrace.

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The squadron eased into its new routine, enjoying the luxury of being within city's reach. Soldiers spread thin, reports were scarce, and time was idle. Haldir was restless; he could stay at his family talan in the city, but he often visited his private talan in the outskirts of the forest. It was during one such visit that he saw Legolas charging toward him, radiating fury.

Haldir drew to a halt as the prince approached, eyes ablaze and hair trailing wild. _Thranduil_, he almost called out in surprise, and bit his tongue with a start.

"What is this?" Legolas spat. "Is it not enough to avoid me like poison? You must now go and use your rank against me?"

"Legolas," Haldir said smoothly, "what ails you?"

"I was dismissed from the guard!" The youth exploded. "Is it because of that incident with the orcs? I assure you, Haldir, it will not happen again."

"No, Legolas, it is not." Haldir smiled, gentle, as the prince's gaze matched him undaunted. "I am a young and hardheaded captain, and I am simply difficult to please, or work with."

"Orc shit," Legolas spat. Haldir raised an eyebrow. "Don't take me for a fool, Haldir. I know you petitioned to the Lord and Lady."

Haldir's blood turned cold. "What did you hear?"

"The Lady asked me if I had any unfortunate incidents in your guard." Legolas scowled. "And I know you don't need permission to recruit or dismiss guards from your squad. This isn't about my qualifications at all, is it?"

Clever Thranduilion. And yet so honest. Haldir almost wanted to clap Legolas' shoulder. Instead he put on a benevolent face. "Legolas, you have much more to do here than to run around shooting things at my command."

"That is my choice to make." Legolas' scowl deepened. "I tire of this game. Be frank with me, Haldir. Would it please you if you never had to see me again?"

Haldir was at a loss for words. Legolas' attacks were quick and fierce, and, he realized belated, well-timed. Haldir, on the other hand, was unprepared for this. He had only run and evaded, hoping to evade forever. He was cornered.

"I think no such thing," he said quietly.

"Then why?" Legolas blew impatiently on a strand of hair, and Haldir almost smiled fondly. He surprised himself by reaching forth and gently tucking the strand of hair behind the youth's ear. Legolas started, and Haldir's self-loathing doubled. The little elf deserved more than this. And Haldir was tiring of this as well. Except – for him, it was no game; it was a battle. One he was doomed to lose.

"You know the nature of my bond with your parents." Haldir's words were slow, measured. "Your father has entrusted me with you. Though I am poor company in entertainment, I am determined to excel in what I can do." He paused. "I cannot have this risk, Legolas. I hope you understand."

"I understand that you are protective." Legolas stared hard. "But if your way of protecting loved ones is to keep them away from battle altogether, how is it that you have both Rumil and Orophin in your guard?"

Haldir found his words with difficulty. "They are as protective of me as I am of them."

"A valid excuse, but still an excuse." Legolas crossed his arms. "What is it, really?"

A chill smile grazed Haldir's lips. Smart, this one. He would have to do it the hard way.

"I am a captain responsible for the lives of fifty guards." Haldir hardened his voice. "I cannot indulge a child's fantasies at the expense of my troops' safety."

Legolas stilled. He began to speak, but Haldir beat him to it. "Your skills matter little in this matter. You are still the prince of Mirkwood, son of my friend Thranduil." He cocked his head. "Do you understand what this means, Legolas? You, in your innocence, would insist that it matters not, as long as we fight together as brothers in arms. But your presence alone puts tremendous strain in our guards' performance; your naiveté puts my entire squadron at risk."

He let the youth digest his words in silence. Legolas' eyes were bright still, and Haldir prayed they were not due to tears. But Legolas smiled instead.

"It is true, what they say," he said softly. "You don't do things halfway." He shook his head a little, and his smile brightened. Haldir's chest clenched.

"I cannot refute that." Legolas backed away. "Forgive me, Haldir, for forcing you to indulge my whim. It seems that I have been childish."

"Nothing to forgive." The words rang dully in his own ears. He watched the youth disappear into the woods.

It was not until Orophin placed a hand on his shoulder that Haldir realized he had remained rooted at the spot.

"The rota, Haldir," said Orophin, holding out a scroll. He peered into his brother's face. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

In a way, he had.

Haldir opened the scroll jerkily. He could not make out the writing, and after a few attempts, thrust it back into Orophin's arms. Orophin opened the scroll, eying Haldir.

"The squadron now reports to Rumil," he said. "As long as the prince is off the rota, you shall be as well. He is to be your charge as long as he stays in Lorien."

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To Rumil's unspoken surprise, Haldir did not contest the Lord and Lady's command. He came to Rumil regularly to hear reports, but he spent most of his time out of the patrol bounds. Orophin called it hiding. And Legolas was apparently a very skilled tracker.

"Are they here yet?" Rumil entered the talan to see Orophin hunched in the corner. "My, Orophin, are you cooking? The Valar must be good indeed."

"What do you mean, 'they'?" Orophin shot up his head. Rumil smiled.

"Legolas is joining us for supper."

Orophin stood immediately. "What?"

Rumil held up his hand. "Keep peeling."

"Rumil, this is Haldir's talan!"

"You're the one who wanted to ambush Haldir's talan instead of eating in the family talan."

"That's because I wanted quality time with all three of us, not an awkward time with that uninvited – "

"He was invited weeks ago, remember?"

"Yes, thanks to you and you only."

"Oh, come now, Orophin." Rumil didn't so much as bat an eye. "We are the three brothers of Lorien. Do you think it would acceptable for me to invite him and for you and Haldir to refuse to show up?"

"That's your fault for – "

"Or for us not to invite him for a single meal while he is guest in Lorien?"

Orophin heaved a breath. "So, you're saying we're cornered either way."

"No," Rumil said breezily, "not if you actually make friends with him. Make the best of it."

Orophin scowled. "Does Haldir know Legolas is coming?"

"No, but that's beside the point."

"How is that beside the point?"

In the end, a moody Orophin ended up peeling fruit in the corner while Rumil sharpened the bread knives. A dark silence settled in.

"This is ridiculous," Orophin suddenly spat. Rumil raised his eyes. Orophin was staring haughtily at his fruit.

"Our peace is entirely ruined thanks to him, and we never get to see Haldir anymore, not to mention a smile-"

"Orophin." Rumil held up a hand. "If you insist on waving a knife at my face to make a point, let us at least be fair. It is not Legolas' fault that Haldir is often elusive."

"Of course it is!" Orophin stared. "If he weren't hunting Haldir down-"

"He wouldn't if Haldir didn't constantly run away from him."

"Haldir can run if he chooses to." Orophin frowned. "All right, then; why is he running away?"

Rumil shrugged.

"Even if he runs away," said Orophin, sullenly, "Legolas has no business hunting him down."

"He likes Haldir, and wants to see him."

"I don't see the point of this whole obsession." Rumil jabbed the fruit. "Over a dead lady."

"Orophin." The voice dropped like ice.

Orophin raised his eyes, daring a glance toward his stilled brother. Pale eyes were cold and hard, warning rippling in waves. Orophin silently returned to his task.

Rumil casually resumed his task as well. Silence filled the talan.

"You don't remember her at all, do you?"

Orophin looked up. Rumil was staring out of the talan.

"She took us to safety, Orophin, when the capital was overrun. She was the one person Haldir depended on – think, Orophin. He had always been the older brother to us, but he was still a child." His words slowed. "Haldir would not have survived the war without her. Neither would we."

Orophin watched Rumil carefully. Rumil tensed. "He must be here." He sprang to his feet and poked his head out of the talan. "Legolas! Welcome!"

Legolas was indeed Thranduil's son. He came with gifts – Mirkwood wine, though Orophin had no clue why he had one instead of having given them all to the Lord and Lady – and insisted on assisting the cooking. He ended up chopping vegetables in another corner as Rumil gave out instructions. Whereas Orophin prepared the food in sullen silence, Legolas chatted away happily to Rumil, who stole glances when the prince wasn't looking. Orophin narrowed his eyes.

Something was wrong.

The young elf's eyes were bright against the burning candles, his lashes darkening in the shadows. His hair, carelessly unbound, tumbled down his narrow shoulders in a softer silhouette than usual. The dancing candles threw startlingly delicate shadows on the wall, and as darkness deepened and the candlelight brightened, Orophin began to feel uneasy. If Rumil's behavior was any indication of the ghosts Legolas evoked, Haldir –

"Isn't that right, Orophin? Orophin!"

Orophin snapped to attention. "What?"

"Arm wrestling." Rumil grinned. "In the Moonlight Festival."

Orophin subconsciously straightened. "Yes, I won the championship in the junior guards."

Rumil's grin broadned. "And then someone claimed that he was cheating."

Orophin boomed, "I was _not_ cheating – "

"No, just a little too tall and big to be in the junior guards – "

"I was junior guard age, for Valar's sake, and that skinny little loser deserved to lose – "

"Far outmatched, that was for sure – "

"Sore loser, that's what he was, it's not my fault Haldir fed me like there was no tomorrow – "

"So it's my fault now?" Haldir stepped into the talan, brisk and breathless, windblown hair falling into a sack of bread in his arms. "Ungrateful pup. No lembas for you."

Orophin started, and Rumil laughed. "Haldir! Welcome home."

"I see you've made yourselves comfortable," Haldir huffed out a crisp breath, and turned to put down the bread sack when he started. He froze entirely.

"Well met." Legolas smiled, looking unsure.

Rumil slid in between them, taking the bread easily from Haldir's hands. "Forgive his rudeness, Legolas. He and Orophin see and hear nothing when they're antagonizing each other."

It was a rare occasion to see Haldir's face so unguarded. Orophin glanced at Legolas, who nearly squirmed.

Haldir seemed to shake off his ghosts with tremendous difficulty. "Well met, Legolas." He searched for the bread sack, looking panicked to see it gone from his hands. "Forgive the crowdedness. My talan is rather humble."

"Here, Haldir," Rumil said briskly, pushing Haldir toward the boiling pot, "take over. I don't want to kill our guest with my cooking."

The cooking was silent on Haldir's part, despite Rumil's chatting, and Legolas seemed subdued. Orophin felt a tinge of pity, and was irritated for feeling it. He viciously went back to chopping. Haldir would have cuffed his head for the noise, but he didn't seem to notice. Orophin began to pray for a messenger from the Lord and Lady, or perhaps a small kitchen fire, something – anything to ruin this awkward evening.

"That," Rumil remarked, "looks absolutely divine."

Legolas smiled as Rumil tasted the batter he was making. "Mm," Rumil purred, licking his lips, and Legolas laughed. Orophin watched the two, and caught a movement in the corner of his eye. Haldir's fist was clenching and unclenching as he watched Legolas. When Legolas half-turned, Haldir took a step forward, eyes riveted on the profile view of the younger elf. Orophin's heart beat erratically.

Legolas was dangerous.

Rumil's eye caught Haldir, and he dropped the bowl of batter. "Haldir!"

Legolas turned, gasping to see Haldir looming over him with a bloody knife; Rumil moved in fluid motion, stepping forth to push Legolas out of the way and catching Haldir's descending arm.

"Now, now," he said firmly, a steady hand picking the knife out from Haldir's shaky grasp, "you could have asked him to scoot over." He picked up the carrot from beside Legolas and handed it to Haldir. "There." His firm grasp remained on Haldir's trembling hands.

Orophin could have hugged his brother senseless.

Haldir looked down at the knife, and the carrot. His hand clenched pale.

Legolas swallowed. "Are you all right?" He took a calming breath. "Your hand is bleeding." He reached for Haldir's hand.

Haldir jerked away. "No." His voice fractured. "I – "

When Legolas' fingertip ventured close to his hand, Haldir moved away, as if burned.

"Forgive me." A gray billow in the talan, and he was gone.

The long silence was broken by Rumil. "I apologize," he said softly. "Please, Legolas, stay." He put a gentle hand on Legolas' arm.

Legolas turned unsteadily, shaking his head. "No, it's my fault." He struggled for smile, and Orophin's heart squeezed. "I should not have come. I'm sorry, Orophin. Rumil."

And with that, he also left in haste, into the silence of the night.

At last Rumil moved, slowly bending to pick up the bowl of ruined batter.

"Let's clean up, Orophin."

Orophin wordlessly followed his brother's lead. The night was long, and in the muffled silence Orophin found himself wishing he could turn back time.

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_**To Be Continued**_


	5. What, Was, Is, and Would Be

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine, save the plot.

**Rating**: PG 13 for scenes of battle violence and adolescent angst.

**Summary**: To all, the prince of Mirkwood was Beloved. But to the lone Warden of Lorien, he was a nightmare incarnate.

**Author's Note**: Finally, a story of Legolas and Haldir – a standalone, yes, but a backdrop to my ongoing _Road to Redemption_ series. Thank you in advance for reviews. Wink.

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_By Kasmi Kassim_

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_**Golden Sun, Silver Moon**_

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_**Chapter 4: What Was, Is, and Would Be**_

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He frowned as he counted the orcs. Why were they so disorganized? Glancing at the patrol members scattered about, he shifted from his perch atop the mallorn tree, and cursed when he nearly fell off. Whoever thought healthy sleep needed to be a component to physical balance obviously never went through sleepless nights before throwing together the whole worldly design.

He was tired, barely fed, and restless. It had been four nights; he had been steering clear of the inner forests since. Those terrified eyes still haunted him, and he clenched his hand – it still throbbed from the cut – when had he cut himself? The blood had been unintended. Truly, all of that had been unintended.

But his excuses were pathetic to his own ears. It was more than a mistake. It was more than that.

"Then what was it?" he hissed to himself. Legolas was right – he did see her in him. But what then? What did he want?

Terrified, he scrubbed that thought away. He stood abruptly, and jumped at the sight of blond hair at his shoulder. Legolas stood a branch away, watching.

"I begin to wonder the same thing," Legolas said. "What was it, Haldir?"

Haldir fought for composure. "Legolas," he said smoothly, "I apologize. It was not –"

"I know what it was not." Legolas' voice cut in. "I want to know what it was."

Words stuck at his throat. Legolas moved, breaking the paralyzed air between them. "You have thinned, Haldir." He reached to casually touch Haldir's face. "And you're pale." Before Haldir could flinch away, Legolas dropped his hand and surveyed the distant grounds. "Busy watching the borders, I see."

Breathe, Haldir, he told himself. To think he had considered Rumil unpredictable –

"Is it personal?"

Haldir blinked. "What?"

"The orcs." Legolas turned to Haldir. "Is it personal?"

Haldir stared at Legolas. Was he being given a chance to apologize? Or was he being hunted? The youth's eyes were smooth and hard, and Haldir found himself fearing not a ghost, but Legolas himself.

"Legolas," he said, wanting to babble. "I –"

"Is it?"

Haldir swallowed a sigh. Legolas was not interested in apologies. Forgiveness would be trite; the whole business would be a parade. "The feud between elves and orcs is a long-standing one," he said haltingly.

"Hatred is not innate." Legolas' eyes flickered toward Haldir's bow. "You have beautiful craftsmanship, Haldir."

Haldir glanced at the fine etchings on his bow. He was lost and gasping for air and Legolas was giving him no opening. "What makes you think I have this...acquired hatred?"

"Your eyes." Legolas looked up at Haldir. "They are like Elladan and Elrohir's eyes."

Haldir needed no more explanation. He knew the twin sons of Elrond – their easy laughter, their gentle tongue, their youthful vivacity. And the avenging fury that blazed their trail in the wilderness.

"We elves have a long history on this earth. We have collective sorrows, collective grief." There was a dull ache somewhere, but he could not place it. "An age-old pain and hate lives in us, a constant song that sings in our veins." Elladan and Elrohir. He was hardly a friend to them, but their eyes spoke close to his heart.

"Again, I ask: is it personal?" This child had her eyes, but he gazed like his father. Thranduil always had a way of gazing directly into one's soul...

"How can it not be?" Haldir managed. "We elves are all kin; the enemy of my dear ones is also an enemy of mine."

"Hatred is not innate."

"It is rather unnatural not to hate."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "Warden Haldir. I may be young, but I am a member of Mirkwood patrol; I know something of soldiers and killings. And I think I may know the nature of the hate that burns in you when you kill."

"As opposed to your cool, objective calm?" Haldir's smile was chilling. "Your hunting attitude is rather impressive, Prince Legolas. Despite your history."

Silence fell. Haldir felt dizzy; this was not what he had meant to say. He was going to apologize, explain that he had not meant to point that knife at him. She had been laughing in front of him, and he was helpless all over again, and hadn't known what he was doing. What was he doing?

It was too late. The blue of Legolas' eyes was churning; the tides were swift, and realization dawned. And those eyes darkened, glittering with knowledge irreversible. Time stood still as Legolas' lips moved slowly.

"You blame me for my mother's death."

Haldir's heart dropped.

The silence was answer enough. Legolas abruptly rose. Haldir closed his eyes as nimble feet moved away.

Haldir started forward, and slowed. Would he lie to the child and say he was mistaken? Or would he apologize, thereby admitting that he did in fact blame him for her death? There was no right way to go about this. He had nothing to say that would not add to the injury his silence had dealt.

He turned back to the plains. He glanced to the right. He looked out to the left. He listened for the leaves.

Then he jumped to his feet and hurried after Legolas.

Haldir hated dishonesty. He hated sweetened words. He hated the lies he would be living as long as the prince stayed within his sight. But he could not – would not – let the child be a victim of his own principle, would not let the child go on with the knowledge of what he had just wordlessly admitted.

Ignoring the saluting guards, he hastened after the trail the prince had not bothered to cover – apparently he did not share Orophin's adolescent trait of running and hiding – and found him on a giant mallorn tree, staring into its trunk.

Haldir took a breath. There was no way to go about this but unconditional apology.

"Legolas... I spoke in anger. Forgive me. I did not mean what I said."

Young shoulders suddenly slumped. He slowly turned, and Haldir held his breath. No child should have such eyes – such a defeated look, such weary blue –

"No, Haldir, forgive me." Legolas raked his fingers through his hair. "I baited you. I know it's a painful subject to you as well."

Haldir did not trust himself to speak. He answered with silence.

Legolas turned fully around, his face sad and tired. "You do resent me, don't you?"

Haldir's lips stiffened. "No."

Legolas smiled, fleeting. "Am I forcing you to lie as well, Haldir?"

Haldir fell silent.

Of course he resented. How could he not resent? She had been his world, his shelter, his sanctuary. He had joined the guards for her. He had become a Warden for her. He had lived for her.

But alas, it was not to be. She died in a place he could not reach, willingly for a child who knew not the weight of the loss. A child who moved not with the blazing hatred of the twin sons of Elrond – no, this wood elf laughed and danced among the trees, and aimed his arrows with methodical precision. His movements, fluid with judgment and calculation, knew nothing of the fire that burned in Haldir. No pity, no compassion; his innocence was a cruel one, a thoughtless facet of sheltered youth.

He knew it was for the best, Legolas' attitude in fighting – unhindered by nightmares, calm and all-seeing. Yet its dispassionate efficiency burned into his heart like a brand. It was an insult in the face of her death. And she had died for this child.

Legolas held his gaze, knowing eyes awaiting admission. Haldir refused to speak.

"Haldir! Have you seen Lego – oh." Orophin came jogging from the trees, slowing to a stop as he eyed the two. He cleared his throat. "A summon from the Lord and Lady, Haldir." He cleared his throat some more. "You too, Legolas. It is urgent."

Haldir shifted as Legolas' low voice burned into the silence. "If Rumil hadn't caught you," the voice churned, intense with running undercurrents, "would you have hurt me?"

Orophin swallowed.

Haldir turned. "Let's go."

Legolas' hand shot out and grabbed Haldir's arm. "Would you have hurt me?"

Haldir stood still. Finally he turned his head, only enough to cast a sidelong glance at Legolas.

"I would never hurt you," he said quietly.

Legolas' fingers fell away. Haldir turned away and soundlessly moved on.

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The return trip was swift and silent. Haldir led, Legolas followed, and Orophin vanished every so often. Haldir did not once glance back. Legolas made no attempt to speak.

The Lord and Lady were speaking to several soldiers in the pavilion, including Rumil. Orophin vanished again, this time reappearing behind Rumil. Galadriel nodded to them. "We received your reports. Thank you, Legolas."

Legolas bowed. "I do no more than share the burden of our kin."

The Lord met Haldir's questioning gaze. "Legolas has been watching the borders alone for the past weeks."

Suddenly, Haldir felt sick.

"Though they appear harmless, Legolas says there is a curious pattern." Celeborn glanced at Legolas. "Quite akin to a formation he had once witnessed in Mirkwood."

The Lady looked at Legolas. "Only once, you say?"

Legolas lowered his gaze. "Only once, my lady, in my childhood. I was not yet old enough to ride a pony."

"So young?" The lady's voice was full of wonder. "And you are sure your memory is clear?"

"As clear as yesterday." Legolas looked up. "It was the day the orc invasion killed my mother."

Silence cut; Haldir could not breathe. Somewhere far, Rumil was watching him. The blue of the starlight was reflected onto the blue of the child's eyes, so bright – no child should have such eyes – Haldir wanted to move, or speak, or go closer and tell him not to look like that, don't look like that –

The Lord broke the silence. "Thank you, child. You shall have a full squadron at your command. Haldir will support you in your investigation."

The lady's gaze was upon him, and Haldir found his voice at last. He bowed.

"I will regroup the guards."

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The trees were whispering.

Legolas crouched by the bushes, listening. Behind him, Haldir was spreading out the troops, once again restored to command. He had not once glanced at Legolas during the entire sojourn, and during their camp in this land, spoke with him of nothing but their mission. It was as if their entire exchange had not occurred. They were back to being captain and subordinate, and the air between them bristled with tension.

"What news?" whispered a voice from behind. It was Orophin.

"They keep circling wide of the forest." Legolas rolled his shoulders, weary. "They seem determined to run top speed in mindless patterns."

"They often do stay away for fear of our arrows."

"Yes, but not in such an organized formation." Legolas glanced around. "They keep converging on the eastern marsh before starting another loop."

"It is a good place to hide and regroup."

"True." Legolas bit his lip.

Orophin sighed. "Legolas. The orcs are circling wide of the forest. They are avoiding us, and moving in random patterns, looking for a chance to attack. What is so suspicious about that?"

"My only fear is -" Legolas looked up. "They might be looping and converging to hide something in their random pattern. There may be something there they are covering, lost amid their endless tracks."

"But even so," Orophin said, "what can they do while they move about in a loop so wide and open?"

Legolas looked back down at the plains. "Perhaps," he murmured, "they might be trickling away into some unknown path, waiting to gather enough hidden forces for an ambush."

Orophin sighed. "That is one way to look at it, I suppose."

"It is," Legolas admitted. "I am not certain. I have only seen this formation once."

"And we are to risk losing weeks of patrol on our grounds to confirm this?"

"That once was too great a price to pay." Legolas glanced. "I apologize for keeping you all here."

"It is my captain's command." Orophin looked long at Legolas. The youth looked up questioningly. "So why were you patrolling alone? What were you hoping to find?"

Legolas blinked. "Orcs?"

"Not my brother's attention, are you sure?"

Legolas stiffened. The whisper of the winds became shrill, and he nocked an arrow and sent it flying with barely a glance. A distant scream pierced the air.

"Impressive," Orophin said flatly. The two watched each other as an orc scampered into hiding. The trees fell quiet.

"What are you trying to say?" Legolas said at last, and Orophin smiled.

"Sensitive, are we?"

"Our issue is between Haldir and I."

"I would prefer it to stay between you two, but I happen to be his brother, and am rather affected by his moods."

Legolas's eyes burned a bit longer, and then seemed to extinguish altogether. "What do you want?" he said wearily, looking away.

"Never one to take the roundabout way, are you? You really are Thranduil's son."

"Don't speak my father's name," Legolas snapped. Orophin raised his brows.

"Look here, now, the prince has his temper too."

In a flash, a callused hang grabbed his collar, and Orophin found blue sparks blazing into his eyes. He glanced down at the grip upon his collar. "Are you certain you want to commit violence? You would be dismissed from the guard, you know. Again."

The fist clenching his tunic trembled, but Legolas did not move further. Orophin smiled lazily. "That's what I thought. Because when our captain sees this..." he glanced beyond Legolas' shoulder. Legolas haltingly turned, and froze to see Haldir standing behind them. Unlike his usual unreadable calm, his eyes were dark with smoldering wrath.

"Legolas, come with me. Orophin, wait back at the fire." With a turn, he shouted orders for the squadron to withdraw for the night save the designated watch guards. Legolas rose to his feet miserably. Haldir did not once glance back, or break his stride.

Legolas flinched when Haldir threw open the tent flap, secretly grateful that there was no door to slam shut. Haldir began to pace back and forth, seemingly oblivious of Legolas' presence, his brows furrowed and lips moving in a fevered, soundless whisper. And suddenly, he whirled, and stared at Legolas. The youth almost cowered.

"Well?" he said.

The air was thick, and Legolas swallowed. He could not speak, could not move, at the face of Haldir's fury. He stared at his feet. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Wrong answer, Thranduilion!" Haldir thundered. Legolas flinched.

Haldir began pacing again, his voice once again somewhat level. "I want to hear exactly when, how, and why you were close to pointing an arrow at a fellow patrol's throat."

"I was not –"

"Is that your final answer?" Haldir cut sharply, and Legolas fell silent.

Haldir closed his eyes. "Legolas. Tell me this." He took a deep breath. "Will I ever, in the most distant of futures, see you threatening violence to a fellow elf again?"

Silence.

"Answer me!"

"I'm sorry."

Haldir held his breath.

Legolas raised a timid gaze. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Haldir. But if an elf, even of my own Silvan or Sindarin kin, insults or threatens someone who is dear to me, I shall point an arrow at them without a second thought."

"Even kin?" Haldir's voice was strangely quiet.

Legolas swallowed. "Even kin."

"You would lose your honor, turn against kin, be banished among elves, to protect what is dear?" Haldir 's voice became flat. "What if a mortal becomes dear to you? A dwarf? An orc? A lost cause? A suicide mission?"

Legolas held his breath. He had heard it whispered; the young Warden possessed a gift of foresight – but he had never confirmed nor denied. He tried to shake the fog of foreboding from his mind. The tempest in Haldir's eyes was strangely calm.

"I do not know, Haldir. I – I'm sorry. The case with Orophin was different. I acted rashly. I should not have attacked him at a mere insult."

"What exactly was this insult?" Haldir was back to being expressionless. Legolas paced in place, suddenly desperate.

"Haldir, please."

"Is it something I should not be hearing?"

"It was nothing. Please."

Haldir continued to press him with the weight of his gaze. Legolas avoided it.

"I see." Haldir's voice was blank. "Will I see such a display again, Legolas?"

Legolas shook his head. "No, captain. Not in your squadron."

"Good." Haldir turned away. "Tell Orophin to come in."

Legolas left with a silent bow. When he reached the fire, Orophin rose, and passed him without a word. Legolas sank down, staring into the flames, as he heard footsteps approach. Rumil.

"Legolas?"

Legolas snapped to his feet. "Forgive me, Rumil." His voice was strained. "I need to take a walk."

As expected, Rumil did not offer company. Sweet Rumil.

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Orophin entered to see Haldir seated with a glass of wine. "Come, Orophin," he said, gesturing to the opposite chair. "Join me." He handed him a glass and began to pour as Orophin warily sat. "Mirkwood vintage," he explained. "Always thought I'd share it with my brothers when they grew old enough."

"What about Rumil?" Orophin said carefully. Haldir chuckled.

"Rumil got to it decades ago, that pig."

He toasted in silence, and Orophin followed suit. The wine hit heavily, rich and sweet. Haldir drank it down like water.

Orophin studied Haldir. As the older elf began to refill his glass, Orophin's hand shot out across the table to grab Haldir's wrist. "Stop. Stop. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Haldir. I was wrong."

"Why are you apologizing, Orophin? I am not angry with you." Haldir gently pried Orophin's fingers off.

Orophin grabbed him again, with more force. If anyone in the guard could match Haldir's strength, it was Orophin. "Haldir, please. I'll apologize to Legolas. I'll do anything. Stop."

Haldir finally met his gaze, and it was long and wordless and Orophin wanted to hang his head. Haldir slowly put down the glass, and with a weary sigh, ran a hand over his face.

"Some things never change," he said, a soft whisper. "Rumil still avoids maidens like a plague. You act like a baby version of me. My body still cannot take a drink, but my mind is immune to its haze." He gestured to Orophin's glass. "Good wine, though, isn't it? Thranduil picked it out himself – it's one of his best."

He rose, and swayed. Orophin jumped to his feet but Haldir was already sinking onto his cot. "Secure the flaps on your way out, Orophin." He began to undress.

Orophin stood still, and, bit his lip. "What?" He said tightly. "What is it that you want to say to me, Haldir? You can drop the act now; I am thoroughly remorseful. Don't you want an explanation? An apology?"

Haldir looked up at Orophin. His eyes were clear, though his words were a tired sigh. "No, Orophin. I should be the one to apologize. I am sorry. I am sorry for the poor example. I am sorry I reduced you to acting such a way."

Orophin wanted to hit something. He hated seeing Haldir drunk. He was honest when sober, but when drunk, he was honest on a different note –weak and soft and brimming with gentle whispers and golden memories. "I'm sorry, Haldir," he said with difficulty. He was angry, and he didn't know why; he was angry and he could not hurt Haldir. He swallowed. "I just... didn't want to see you hurting anymore."

"I know." Haldir smiled, full of sadness. "I made you worry, resent, and hate. What wrong you did was not your doing; it was mine. If anyone deserves punishment, it is I."

"Haldir." Orophin approached the cot. "You are only an elf. You cannot continue to punish yourself for her death." He kneeled before his brother, placing his hands on Haldir's knees. The older elf looked down, his gaze flickering in the lamplight. Orophin's voice was soft, pleading. "We are young, but we have lived through enough – don't we deserve to be happy, Haldir?" He squeezed his knees. "You have raised me and Rumil to be safe, strong, and carefree. Don't you, in the end, also deserve to be happy?"

Haldir smiled, and it was fond and gentle. "I am, Orophin. Very happy. When I see how you and Rumil have grown – "

"It's you! I'm talking about you!" Orophin shouted, springing to his feet. "When are you going to let go of your ghosts and start living amongst us? What are you doing to us?"

Haldir was silent. Orophin clipped his words. "Wait, forget that. You don't need new guilt added on." He turned briskly away. "I riled him up to hurt him for hurting you. It's not your fault; it is my childishness. I will go and apologize."

When Haldir's voice called from behind, it was weak and tired. "Orophin."

Orophin stopped, tent flap in his hands.

"Be good to him." A sigh. "He deserves our love."

"Forgive me, Captain; I cannot." Orophin didn't glance back. "What hurts you will get no love from me."

Alone, Haldir watched the wavering flaps. The wine made him dizzy, and his body tingled with numbness. Yet the memories came unbidden, the laughter, the screams, the tears, the embraces. The warmth was still in his arms, her breath gentle upon his head. He took a deep breath, willing the warmth to return. It was so close, her laughter, her smile. Yet – she was gone. Gone.

Orophin was wrong. There was no punishment yet for Haldir; the Valar were waiting. And when it came, which it no doubt would – it would smite him with such pain that there would be endless tears. Haldir closed his eyes.

If the punishment was such that he would be the only one to suffer, that would be enough.

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_**To Be Continued**_


	6. To Know Not

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine, save the plot.

**Rating**: PG 13 for scenes of battle violence and adolescent angst.

**Summary**: To all, the prince of Mirkwood was Beloved. But to the lone Warden of Lorien, he was a nightmare incarnate.

**Author's Note**: Finally, a story of Legolas and Haldir – a standalone, yes, but a backdrop to my ongoing _Road to Redemption_ series. Thank you in advance for reviews. Wink.

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_By Kasmi Kassim_

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_**Golden Sun, Silver Moon**_

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_**Chapter 5: To Know Not**_

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Early morning saw Legolas returning to camp. Rumil looked up from the fire. "You didn't sleep," he noted with disapproval.

Legolas came to crouch by Rumil. "Sorry, Rumil."

Rumil raised his eyebrows.

Legolas ran his hands down his face. "With your brother – it was brash of me."

Rumil shrugged. "Nothing wrong with brash youth."

Legolas hung his head. "Valar, Father would have my head."

Rumil smiled. "Well, he used to blame his temper on his father, you know." He glanced up from poking at the flames, and winked at Legolas' startled face. "Only when his father wasn't around, of course."

Legolas started to laugh.

A fog was rolling in. Patrol members began to emerge, and the two straightened as they saw Haldir stride out and turn sharply toward the eastern horizon.

"This fog is ominous," he breathed, and the bustling camp fell into a hush.

"Legolas, Rumil! Lookout on the cliffside."

The two leaped to their feet. Haldir stood tall in the rolling mist, dark against the dimming sun.

"Gilthor, Salmas! Western hills. Keep the retreat path open!" Elves began to scatter, and Legolas and Rumil diverged quickly to opposite cliffs. "The rest of you, line formation! Do not converge!"

A chill rippled up Legolas' spine. The morning was swiftly becoming dark. Evil was at hand.

A ripple in the marshes. Wind? Legolas realized that the cliff lookout was steep, isolated. He slowly drew back, watching the wavering grass below. The marsh was enormous, and unexplored. And moving – moving too fast.

"Incoming!" he shouted, springing to his feet, as a hand jerked out from underneath. He turned to see Rumil fighting off an orc that had leaped onto his shoulder. The orc beneath his own foot grabbed again, and Legolas shot it swiftly down, and scampered away as another orc rose in its stead. The entire cliffside was swarming with orcs. He turned and ran, Rumil joining his side.

All of patrol were gathering around Haldir. He began to shout retreat orders when Rumil cried out: "Legolas!"

Dread outpaced vision. He turned to see Legolas turn and leap toward the edge of the cliff. His eyes were trained toward the marshes. That Thranduilion...

Haldir was shouting before he knew himself. Arrows were launched as he fought his way to the cliffside, reaching him in that short eternity, and grabbed the youth by the arm and spun him around. Legolas looked up, eyes alight with the battle rush, and Haldir's vision blurred. He began to drag him back to the flanks, and started when Legolas planted his feet.

"What -" Haldir turned, seething, and saw defiant eyes. He was dizzy; his chest was exploding with hot fury. "Retreat, and this is an order!"

Legolas struggled against Haldir's hold. "I saw them, Haldir, I saw them heading out from the marshes! If we retreat now, we may never find their route!"

"I don't give an orcshit!" Haldir thrust him against Rumil, who dragged the youth toward the retreating guards. Haldir protected the rear as the guards climbed down the cliff through its plateau path.

Then there was a cry.

Calm, he told himself, stay calm. Rumil was shouting. The retreat had run straight into a wall of orcs. They were trapped.

He ran then. Arrows flew in a flenzy; axes and spears hurled blood into the air. Shouts, curses, cries from his guards –

Valar –

"Captain!" Orophin. "Ambush from the flanks!"

Where had he gone wrong?

His blade met the first orc that blocked his way. Leathery skin tore, and blood splattered against his face. He pushed through the crowd. How had he not known that the path was cut off? If he had not come to the cliffside in time, they would both be dead. His brother, and Legolas, would be dead.

He swung his sword, blinding white among black skin and armor. The sky was dark, raining blood. Then gray – black – red –

"Legolas!" Rumil's scream. Haldir turned, and a halberd cut deep into his side. He faltered, grabbed the shaft, and pulled it as blood pumped freely down. He pressed on, drawing arcs of white in the air. Amid the screams, there were calls, shouts – and then, the orcs cleared, and he could see again.

His squadron was a moving circle, archers in the back, lancers middle, swordsmen in front – constantly in rotation, an unbreakable shield. Haldir smiled faintly.

Orophin was coming - was cutting his way toward him desperately, and Haldir wanted to tell him not to panic, because he looked a little bit like an idiot when he looked like that.

His cheekbone hurt. He blinked, eyelashes wet against a red pool. Had he spilled that wine? I'm too old for this, he murmured. The world was becoming quiet. And dark.

Haldir cursed. Rumil and Orophin would be worried.

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Legolas woke in darkness.

He blinked to feel eyelashes scraping cloth. He reached up with a sharp breath; a dry cough exploded from his throat.

"Ah, you are awake." A strong hand lifted his head. "There, there." And a cool surface was nudging parched lips.

The water soothed the burn in his throat, and he was suddenly exhausted. He lay back down. "Rumil?" he rasped.

"That's my name," said the lulling voice. "That's a good child... talk to me."

What was this eerie silence? Legolas tried to push down the panic. "Is anyone hurt?"

"_You_ are, little prince." A cool hand brushed away a strand of hair from his forehead. "Don't you remember? You went down like a leaf."

He remembered, faintly. The sudden attack; he was the first to be hit. He vaguely recalled the cries as he fell. How he must have given them a fright. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You should be." The hand continued its soothing motion. "Don't ever do that again."

Haldir had said those words in that lamplight, and his eyes had trembled blue. Legolas' heart scorched. "Where is Haldir?"

There was a pause. Panic caught in his throat; Legolas tried to rise, and firm hands pushed him down with: "He is all right."

"But?" The pain was intolerable; his body throbbed with each movement.

"He lost too much blood." Rumil's voice was defeated. "A light wound, but he's barely there."

Black dread swamped him blind. He dared not breathe. "How long has it been?"

"Two days."

That was it, this eerie silence. They were unable to complete their retreat into the woods; they were caught in this desolate land, with thin tents and nothing to lie on but layers of the Galadhrim's cloaks. Their only healer was blinded, and their captain had fallen – the squadron was well and utterly broken.

"I'm sorry," Legolas whispered, and words were so inadequate he wanted to cry.

There was a pause, and then a clipped reply: "I heard you the first time, little prince. No more of that."

Legolas swallowed. If only he had not insisted on this entire matter – if only he had realized sooner that the attack on the scouts was a decoy!

"When will the healers come?" he whispered.

"In another day or so," said the voice. "Until then, no moving for you. Keep your eyes closed." There was a rustle, and he felt Rumil rise to his feet. "I will get you some food," he said, "and let everyone know that at least one of you idiots is all right."

Legolas smiled weakly. The tent flap rustled, and he called with sudden memory: "Rumil?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," Legolas breathed, "for saving me."

Amid the screams and cries, he had been caught broken in an orc's grasp, and had it not been for the thunderous slash of white that cleaved its way to his side –

There was silence. And then, Rumil moved again. "That was Orophin."

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The healer ordered absolute stillness. He spoke of Haldir to none but Rumil. And it terrified him; as a healer himself, he knew there were sometimes no answers to give.

Guards took turns tending to him, and the kindness was too much to bear. No one but the brothers knew that he was at fault for this. If they found out – well, he could not begrudge them. He could not begrudge Orophin, certainly. He had not visited once after the battle.

Hours slid into days, and materialized into nights. He woke breathless from a dream, and reached for the cloth on his eyes. A large, cool hand halted him, smelling of healing balms. Someone from Haldir's tent. "Who is it?" he called, and was met with sounds of rustling cloaks. Enough to notify him of a presence, but refusing to speak – Orophin.

"Orophin?" he whispered. There was silence.

"I'm sorry," he tried again, and pased. "I meant, thank you. And I'm sorry."

"Nothing to thank me for," said Orophin's quiet voice, a distance away. "I owed you one for that insult on your father."

Legolas swallowed. "Orophin, that... it was foolish of me. Forgive me."

"My stance remains," said the voice, devoid of emotion. "But what exactly are you sorry for?"

Legolas paused. "For...everything."

"Injuries are not uncommon in battle."

"Yes. But I... I had insisted on this sojourn."

"So why was it, Legolas?" The voice was patiently tired. "Why did you insist on realigning our patrol so drastically on vulnerable ground?"

Legolas let out a silent breath. He had had five days to ask himself that very question. "I think you were right," he whispered, dragging the words out of his throat. "I might have wanted Haldir's attention."

Silence. And then the voice returned, thankfully unaltered. "Why Haldir? Do you enjoy a challenge?" A shift. "Does it baffle you to be unloved for once?"

Legolas winced. "It was Haldir's love I wanted. I wanted to...know what it felt like. To have him look upon me with love."

"He doted on you when you were a babe."

"Did he?" Legolas' voice fell, bitter. "Or was it that he doted on my mother, and me too, by default?"

Orophin did not answer.

"I had grown up with tales of Haldir." Legolas laughed breathily. "Haldir knows me, he loved my mother, he loves my father, but as for me," his voice fell into a whisper, "I know not whether he loves me or hates me."

There was stillness, and then a draft from the flaps. Legolas sighed. For the first time since coming to Lorien, he felt unbearably tired.

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Haldir was sitting on his makeshift cot, resting after another round of Orophin's fussing, when he was greeted by a hesitant shadow upon his flaps. "Come in," he called.

Legolas entered, hesitant, and started to meet Haldir's alert stare. Haldir gestured to a nearby makeshift chair. "How is your eye?"

Legolas touched a covered eye with his fingers. "It will heal," he said, with a mild smile. "I am glad to see you finally up, Captain."

Haldir was silent. "I will heal as well," he said at last.

Legolas looked around the tent, uneasy. "Your brothers were very worried about you."

Haldir watched him fidget. The air was restless, dark. With his soldiers he would have barked at them to say whatever it was they wanted, but with Legolas – it was so fragile, this piece of himself that was beautiful and bright and lethal. "Have the soldiers been good to you?" he said, and the thickness of the air was doubled.

Legolas' good eye flickered. "Yes," he said, and looked away again. Haldir steeled himself.

"Captain." With a deep breath, Legolas straightened. "I came to bid farewell."

Haldir's fingers curled around his blanket.

"I – I miss home more than I expected," Legolas said, looking uneasy. He glanced up, and pushed on. "I have already spoken with the Lord and Lady."

Haldir's fingers clenched.

"I wish you a speedy recovery, Capta-"

"Haldir."

Legolas blinked. "Pardon?"

"It's Haldir, not Captain." Haldir's voice was slicing. "We are in private audience."

Legolas glanced around the tent with an uneasy smile. "So we are...Haldir."

Haldir tried to raise himself from the bed. He finally saw the nature of the black clouds looming, and though his heart screamed that it was too late, he was desperate – he could not let this continue.

"I have already sent a letter home," Legolas said. The clouds blackened.

Haldir sat still, and again he was too late. Legolas was prepared, as always. Haldir was not.

"Farewell, Haldir." Legolas smiled. With a curt bow, he turned, and strode out of the tent.

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_**To Be Continued**_


	7. To Wish to Know

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine, save the plot.

**Rating**: PG 13 for scenes of battle violence and adolescent angst.

**Summary**: To all, the prince of Mirkwood was Beloved. But to the lone Warden of Lorien, he was a nightmare incarnate.

**Author's Note**: Finally, a story of Legolas and Haldir – a standalone, yes, but a backdrop to my ongoing _Road to Redemption_ series. Thank you in advance for reviews. Wink.

,

_By Kasmi Kassim_

,

,

_**Golden Sun, Silver Moon**_

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,

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_**Chapter 6: To Wish to Know**_

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The entourage into Lorien had been grand. The entourage out was a lonely one.

Legolas trudged alone, fingers pressing his healing eye. It burned with Orophin's silent stare. Rumil's attempts to persuade him to stay. Haldir, wrapped in bandages, thin hair falling in loosened wisps. Haldir, his eyes a storm, a silence refusing to spill. Once Legolas had longed to spill that silence, but no more. Better to flee while the silence held.

He stopped a league away from the forest, staring at the eastern marsh. He swerved. This time, no one would get hurt on his account.

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"How could you let him go like that?"

Haldir ignored him as he marched through the forest. Rumil matched his pace. "Why the silence, Haldir? Something you don't want to admit?"

Oh, Rumil. Haldir wanted to strangle him sometimes. "I don't see why this is cause for concern."

"How is this not a cause for concern?" Rumil's pitch was dangerously high.

Haldir unsheathed his sword and hacked at a bush. "He wanted to leave, and he left. What is wrong with that?"

"What is wrong with that?" Rumil exploded. "He came with an entourage of three hundred, Haldir! He was supposed to stay for a year! He was to train the martial arts under your guidance! And he just leaves, and you are asking me what is wrong with that? Oh, wait." He crossed his arms. "I know what's wrong. You."

"Oh, cut the orcshit." Haldir swung widely. His side flared with sharp pain. "He had spoken with the Lord and Lady. Who am I to sway him?"

"Oh, I see what it is. You are angry with him."

"I am not." Haldir crushed a fallen branch with a vicious stomp. "I don't presume to take precedence over the Lord and Lady."

"Ah, but you do." Rumil was standing in front of him then, tapping Haldir's chest with his finger. "In here, you do."

Haldir raised his sword. Rumil stood unflinching.

Orophin popped out of the bushes to the side. "He's heading into the marsh." He looked between the brothers. "Um."

Rumil stared knowingly. "Well?"

"Well what?" Haldir swerved around Rumil, causing Orophin to duck. "He is going home, and his home lies beyond the marsh. What do you want me to do about it?"

Orophin scratched his head. "Well, you know, we did have issues with the eastern marsh..."

Haldir whirled around. "You said it was empty after the last orc attack."

Orophin shrugged. "That's what I saw, Captain, and that's what I believe. No doubt about that. But that's beside the point."

"The point being," said Rumil, "Our Thranduillion, who was adamantly suspicious of the marsh, conveniently decided to take a shortcut through it. After leaving our squadron. After an accident. For which he blames himself."

"Self-blame must be a thing these days," muttered Orophin. Haldir shot him a withering glare.

"Who knows? Maybe he suddenly decided to believe our reports." Rumil pushed Haldir's hovering blade away. "Put this thing away, Haldir, before you cut someone down in your blazing trail of denial."

Haldir looked back to see himself on a trail beaten off the normal path. The rest of the guard was nowhere to be seen. He sheathed his sword shakily, and opted for staring hard at Orophin. "What are you trying to get at? If this is a guilt thing, you can drop it now."

Orophin frowned. "Hey, I might be an orc ass sometimes, and yes, I feel bad now that he left, but don't put it all on that."

"What is it, then?" Haldir snapped. "And make it quick. It will be dark soon."

Orophin scratched his head, glancing at the cloudy skies. "I don't know," he muttered. "I don't know anything about a mother, a father, or Greenwood refugees of war. I don't remember the maiden who protected us and held us while we cried. So, you know, I don't really miss her." He shrugged. "I was lucky to have been spared the memory of war, but... when I see the way you two talk about her sometimes, the way your eyes get all ... sad, like that, it makes me think – makes me wish – that I'd known her too."

Rumil glanced at the rest of the guards, peering this way from a distance.

"Maybe," Orophin said slowly, "maybe that's what he feels when he sees you. Maybe he grew up dreaming of knowing you. And you know, for him it's different, because he _can_." He paused. "Except you won't let him."

The ache in his side was reaching upward into his chest. Haldir couldn't move.

Orophin rolled his shoulders, sounding tired. "I don't know, Haldir. I don't miss what I don't know, and I'm not going to be too sorry to lose sight of this prince forever." He peered up at Haldir. "But would you be the same? You know, and you could have known more. Can you just throw that away?"

The pain was growing into a loud hum. Haldir breathed shallowly.

"I don't miss... Sister, as you call her. But I wish I could miss her, even if it makes me sad. Because it makes me sad not to know this person who was so dear to you." Orophin looked weary. "Haldir. I don't want you to live like that too, not knowing. Never having known. Wishing you had known."

Haldir's knuckles were white against his sword. "You do realize," he whispered, "I am responsible for the lives of fifty elves."

Rumil threw Haldir a pouch, which he caught stiffly against his chest.

"Lembas," he said curtly. "I packed some while you were lying around like a saggy leaf."

Stuffing the pouch into the folds of his cloak, Haldir turned and broke into a sprint down the hill. He was still going to strangle Rumil later.

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Legolas slowed. The Galadhrim were right; this marsh was deep, but not deep enough to hold a cave of hundreds of orcs.

He glanced back toward the light. Before him, the grass grew tall, the light faint. He looked down. The grass before him was trampled, the land sloping abruptly downward.

He was in a tunnel.

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Haldir swung through the trees, watching the dot of Legolas moving deeper into the marsh. He was moving dangerously far from his sight, into those towering blades of grass.

It was ridiculous. The marsh was not dangerous.

But he didn't want Legolas entering it. Out of sight. Out of reach.

And then he disappeared.

Haldir burst into a sprint. The marsh was far; his side burned, his breath short. The child –

The Valar were often so entirely useless. He wished Sister were here.

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The air was foul. Grass vanished, replaced by rocks and mud. As darkness grew, torches began to dot the walls. The tunnel pointed in a familiar direction, the mud trampled beneath heavy boots.

The tunnel ran to the city.

Legolas slowed before a door beneath a torch to his left. He pushed, knife drawn. The door swung heavily into a small chamber. Crude mechanisms hung overhead and all around, a web of ropes and pulleys disappearing through small holes in the walls in all directions. They ran to a central lever, wedged securely with a giant axe.

He quickly left the chamber and looked upward, tracing the web of ropes secured to stakes that pierced the earthen ceiling. All ropes tied to the wooden pillars led to the small chamber's giant lever.

No one was guarding this room. There was not a sound in the tunnel.

The orcs had already moved on.

Legolas turned and sprinted back toward the exit, but slowed. Even if he warned the patrol, they would not be able to warn the city in time. Legolas cursed the golden light of Lorien. Mirkwood, in its darkness, had coded whistles that Lorien lacked.

He turned back and passed the control room, running further down the tunnel. With each step he knew it was futile. There was utter silence. The orcs were too far. He turned back around, panting in panic.

He ran back to the control room, and skidded to a halt to find Haldir examining the lever. Haldir straightened, holding his gaze like a blade.

Legolas pushed down a breath. "Move aside, Haldir."

Haldir's pale eyes burned into his. "I don't think so."

Legolas brushed past Haldir and reached for the lever. Haldir snatched up his hand. "What are you doing?"

Legolas reached with the other hand. Haldir snatched that one too. "Legolas!"

"Let go!"

"Don't you realize this is going to kill us both?" Haldir shouted.

"They're already close to the city!" Lrgolas exploded. "Civilians are in danger!"

"I don't give an orc shit!"

Silence froze the air.

Legolas slowly twisted his hand. Haldir held fast. Legolas took a shallow breath. "Haldir," he tried again. "Haldir, what is wrong with you?"

What was wrong with him? Haldir wanted to scream. What was wrong with him? Did this child even hear himself? This child, this _child_, was trying to kill himself for a foreign people without a second thought. Why couldn't he be like any other insufferable brat and hide behind him while he took care of things?

The torchlight was dancing, and the child's eyes were becoming brighter with each passing moment. "You try to save me, Captain," he hissed, "and you let all your people die."

The shadows were too dark; the chamber was too cold. His side was burning, and he could not breathe. Was he really choosing Legolas over the greater good? Was the city really the greater good?

He wouldn't. He was the captain of the guard. He wouldn't…

"It's all right, Haldir." The voice was soothing. "This is why I joined the guards. To protect my people."

Haldir snapped into reality. "They aren't yours!" he hissed.

Legola's expression froze like a mask. Haldir realized what he had said. No, he had not meant it like that – but it was too late, and perhaps for the best. In the chilling silence, Legolas smiled.

"I know."

A body slammed against his own with surprising venom, and Haldir was knocked out of the chamber. Legolas turned and heaved against the giant lever. The lever groaned, and Haldir watched numbly as it swung upward. A sharp crack burst from above. And another. And another.

Legolas turned to face Haldir, and his chest was open, his shoulders set, his face suddenly much older with a beautiful fierceness. Haldir's blood ran cold. He had seen that look before.

"Run, Haldir," Legolas whispered.

Splintered logs exploded around them with a burst of dirt and stone, crashing down in a thundering roar.

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_**To Be Continued**_


	8. Abandonment

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine, save the plot.

**Rating**: PG 13 for scenes of battle violence and adolescent angst.

**Summary**: To all, the prince of Mirkwood was Beloved. But to the lone Warden of Lorien, he was a nightmare incarnate.

**Author's Note**: Finally, a story of Legolas and Haldir – a standalone, yes, but a backdrop to my ongoing _Road to Redemption_ series. Thank you in advance for reviews. Wink.

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_By Kasmi Kassim_

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_**Golden Sun, Silver Moon**_

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_**Chapter 7: Abandonment**_

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"_Where is Sis going, Haldir?"_

_Haldir shifted the baby in his arms. "Back to Greenwood." _

_Rumil's fingers squirmed inside Haldir's hand. "Why?"_

"_The war is over, Rumil." Haldir said tiredly. "Greenwood's king and troops are back to take their people home." _

"_Then why was she here?" _

_Rumil skipped over a rock, and Haldir tightened his grip. Trees were unearthed, roots torn, branches broken in their path. "Women and children from King Oropher's court were staying under Lorien's protection, because the king marched with all of his able-bodied men to war and Greenwood is empty save a handful of warriors." _

_Rumil stopped. "Can we go with her?"_

_Haldir also stopped, and looked down at Rumil. The child's face fell. "We can't?"_

_Haldir pulled his brother's hand. "Let's go, Rumil." He trudged forward. "They'll be leaving soon."_

_Rumil snatched his hand away. "But I want Sis to stay!"_

"_Stop it!" Haldir whispered fiercely, snatching the younger child's hand. Rumil pulled away, stepped back, and let loose a bawl. The babe in Haldir's arm woke, and began to wail. _

"_Hush, Orophin, hush…" Haldir fell to his knees, laying the infant down onto the leaves. Stretching his sore arm, he turned to Rumil, and narrowed his eyes. "If you're not quiet and well-behaved in an instant, Rumil, I will not even take you to say goodbye."_

"_I don't want to say good bye!" the child wailed, and the bawling rose a pitch. _

"_It doesn't matter!" hissed the older boy. "What you want doesn't matter, Rumil! She belongs in Greenwood, and we belong here! She's leaving us whether we like it or not!"_

_The child cried harder, blinking tears, coughing and heaving under the empty sky. _

_Haldir covered his eyes with his hands. With a few quavering breaths, he squared his shoulders, and pulled Rumil's hand harshly forward. "Come now," he snapped. "Don't make a scene and embarrass her. Do you want her to be ashamed of us in front of her lord prince? Do you want her to regret having known us?"_

_The child's cries weakened. Haldir pulled him harshly forward again, and the child reluctantly straggled along. Haldir gathered up the infant and walked again. Rumil, red-eyed, hiccupped as he trudged. _

_There was silence only broken by Rumil's occasional whimper. _

"_You're not gonna cry, Haldir?"_

"_No."_

"_But Sis is leaving!" Rumil's plump face scrunched up again. "She's gonna go far away!"_

"_We'd been fine before we knew her." Haldir gritted his teeth, struggling to hold onto the infant sliding down his grip._

"_But Nana and Ada were here then," Rumil's voice trembled. Haldir shot him a look, and he hiccupped again. "Now we'll be all alone!"_

"_That's right, Rumil. We are all alone." Haldir heaved the baby upward. "You and Orophin and I only have each other now, and we have to help Orophin grow up into a healthy, happy baby. No more whining. No more fighting. No more prattling. You and I are going to be big brothers, and be adults for Orophin."_

_Rumil hiccupped loudly._

_The clearing on the hill overlooked a path below, where Greenwood warriors were helping women and children onto horses. Under a morose green flag, the prince stood watching one last elleth pace frantically back and forth among the refugees. She looked wildly about, despair darkening her eyes as she saw the entourage align. _

_At last she stopped, and let loose a wrenching cry: "Haldir! Rumil! Orophin!"_

_Rumil cried out softly, and glanced at his silent brother. Haldir was sinking to his knees onto the dirt, small hands clamped over his mouth. His glassy eyes were riveted on the wild-eyed maiden, trembling with a soundless wail. _

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Dust rained from above, and a rumbling began to pound above them. Logs cracked, ropes swung. Haldir dragged Legolas along, eyes narrowed toward the light.

The creator of the destruction lever planned a narrow escape. The reinforcements on the ceiling grew stronger toward the entrance, and cracks raced overhead as they ran, the cave roaring behind them, a wave of destruction chasing them in darkness.

Haldir pulled Legolas closer as an avalanche of dust rushed ahead of them from behind. The mouth of the tunnel was intact, its blades of grass serene, as he burst out unto it with an unscathed Legolas in tow.

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It all happened so fast.

One moment there was a babbling brook, and next – the ground tumbled down, the earth collapsed, carving a trench that snaked toward the city, and out emerged bodies, writhing like maggots.

In the shadow of the trees, Rumil watched in silence. The guards behind him fidgeted, weapons drawn.

"Vice Warden?" ventured one.

"Orophin," Rumil called. Orophin was instantly at his side. "Follow the trench and find out where it originated. Report back immediately. Stay out of sight."

Orophin disappeared without a sound. Rumil watched him reappear below the hill, sprinting parallel to the trench, just far enough from it to stay unseen by the orcs. The confused mass of battered orcs were amassing, withdrawing from the city.

The guards shot questioning glances. "Vice Warden," a guard called. "The captain and Orophin had gone in the same direction. Why do we not go with Orophin and rescue the captain before the orcs reach him?"

"Because we are the border patrol, Salmas." Rumil remained unmoving. "Because our duty is to make sure as little of them escape as possible from our grasp."

"We will abandon them," another guard gasped.

"Orophin will take care of it."

"But there is only one of him!"

"That's right." Rumil turned around, and looked at the guards aligned before him. "Orophin will do his part and track down our fellows. We will do our part and fight the enemy. The captain is out of our hands."

Silence.

"But," whispered another guard, "he is your brother."

Rumil's eyes flickered like glass. He turned his back to the guard, and raised his bow.

"Formation."

The guards aligned, raising their bows.

The stampede of orcs continued below, thunderous and terrible. Crouched in the trees above, Rumil thought of Orophin, and his orders to return immediately. He held his breath, and let an arrow fly.

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Legolas and Haldir glanced at each other. In the quiet marsh stood orcs, surrounding them, a low snarl in the air. Bloodied, bruised, and emanating hate.

Haldir held up his hands. "Peace, orcs of Lorien. I have an offer."

The orcs exploded into a nightmarish screech.

Haldir raised his voice. "Your trench is bared. Your numbers have dwindled. An elf army will come tracking you down, I promise you – unless one of us goes free and quiets the alarm."

"Kill them! Kill them both!"

"Die, elves! You will die!"

Legolas swallowed.

Haldir reached into the folds of his outer jerkin. The orcs jumped back, a forest of blades pointed in their direction.

"This is the crest of a Warden." He held up a gleaming plate. "I speak with honor. I have the authority to move the army away from you. Without me, you will not survive this night."

The cries became a horrifying din. Legolas stared at Haldir's back, wishing that he would give him a reassuring glance.

"I offer you my companion hostage, as proof of my word, if you let me go."

The noise died down into silence.

Haldir did glance back then, and his face was smooth and unreadable. "This is a wanderer from foreign lands, as you can tell from his garb, and was on his way out. If he goes missing, no one will suspect." He looked back at the orcs. "I, however, am scheduled to return to my squadron soon. If I go missing, they will come searching."

"He is going to lead the army here!" an orc shouted. "Kill him!"

Haldir narrowed his eyes. "With all due respect I have for my woodland kin, I am not going to endanger my squadron if I can avoid it."

Legolas swallowed.

"I suggest you consider quickly." Haldir glanced toward the cavernous mouth of the tunnel, precariously held up by half-broken ceiling logs. "Agree to my proposal, and I suffer no more loss of my fellow guards, and you can have an elf and a safe retreat."

The orcs began to quiet.

"I don't trust him," said an orc.

"He is too willing the leave this one," said another.

Haldir crossed his arms. "I wouldn't waste time debating."

"Why take our chances?" shrieked one orc. "He'll just bring back more elves!"

Haldir tapped a foot impatiently. "If you don't trust me to send them all away, the elves will find you sooner or later. You had a trench collapse on top of you, but the elves are fresh as grass."

"Lies," croaked another orc. "Why should we trust you?"

Haldir slowly turned, and finally looked at Legolas. Legolas held his breath. The glow in those eyes made his stomach twist.

"This elf," Haldir said hoarsely, "killed someone who was dear to me."

Ice wrapped around Legolas' heart.

Suddenly Haldir looked away, and moved past. Cleaving the sea of reluctant orcs, he stopped, his back turned.

"You were right, little leaf." He took a deep breath. "I do blame you for her death."

The orcs went silent. Daylight was fading. Haldir turned, his eyes a glassy blue in the dark.

"I want you dead." A low, scathing whisper. "I want your father in despair. I want your kingdom ruined. Everything that took her from me and my brothers. Thank you, Legolas; I never thought I would be given such a chance without doing the dirty work."

The world was beginning to darken, narrowed down to the one figure that was Haldir. In the whispering dusk, Haldir moved away, and disappeared into the forest.

"Well," an orc broke the silence. "Tie this one up. Arms only. We need him to keep up with us."

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_**To Be Continued**_


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